Memoirs of a Templar: Tobias
by Ardent Chronicler
Summary: Age 9:43: As I gaze upon the last few months of my life, I am writing this memoir of my journies and my friends. My name is Tobias, I was a Templar, Grey Warden, friend, and companion to two great people.


As I lay here in my bed, preparing for my time to end, I find myself reminiscing about my life. This is my memoir, my journal, my legacy.

Living in a small village on the edge of the Waking Sea you learn several things. One is to never leave home without your blade or bow, between the oversized spiders and the wolves you never know what you may be set upon by. Secondly, your parent's word is law, second only to the Chantry. I never felt like that meant much to me, after all, I never really believed in the Maker, but I still attended services with my family. Thirdly, and most importantly, NEVER stand out. Those who stand out are only destined for three things, the Chantry, Knighthood, or a rope. I, unfortunately, learned this the hard way.

~ Tobias Age 9:48

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Age 9:16

The screams of pain were deafening, tears filled my eyes as I watched. My older sister, my protector, my safe haven, my mother not by birth, she stood upon the pyre held down by metal clasps in the hands of men in Iron armor. Words were being said, our father holding my head straight with one hand, the other forcing my eyes open to watch. I yearned to look away, for the screaming to stop, the blood rushing to my ears.

"Watch child, and see what happens to those who disobey, give me your soul, and this will stop."

I knew not to listen to the voice, my sister had warned me of it. The demon taking the form of my father forced me to my knees, and with one jerk of its head the men holding down my sister let her up from the fire. Her quivering frame now bare from the waist up covered in burns, her face blackened the jelly from her eyes running down her face like tears. My sister was once a beauty, with many suitors, though she was the village healer, an apostate not turned into the Circle.

"Give yourself to me, and her suffering will stop, continue to refuse my generous gift and I will continue this."

I almost wavered but I heard a wheeze and my eyes snapped to my sister's face. I saw it in the way her face turned to me, the voiceless words upon her lips.

"No."

"So be it."

The men lowered my sister back into the fire, and the screams died into wheezes barely covered by the roar of the flames. I felt myself start to break, this was too much. I can't let her suffer, she has to survive. As I went to raise my voice I heard it, a roar of thunder, the pounding of horses and storming of men. The demon dropped me to the ground and I scrambled forward as the soldiers dropped my sister's body completely into the fire.

"FLORA!"

I raced forward with no thought to myself, I stopped at the edge of the flames and reached in with my left arm grabbing Flora's ankle. I pulled with all my might and looked into the flames, my skin burning away, the pain was unbelievable. A strong hand reached forward and grabbed her leg pulling her from the fire in one long pull. I was thrown back, another gauntleted arm wrapping around my torso and trying to turn me from the view, but I wretched forward, refusing to turn, my voice crying loudly over the wind.

"FLORA! FLORA!"

The man removed his helmet and tossed it to the ground, wrapping both arms around my torso. I placed my head in the crevice of his neck, my eyes never leaving her face.

"It'll be alright boy, our best healer Wynne is treating her."

"She's going to die."

"We do not know that for sure, but if she does, then it is the Makers will. She will know no more suffering, only bliss by his side with our lady Andraste."

"Do you have any living family?"

"No, Flora and Papa was it, but Papa was the demon."

"Shit, well, how would you like to stay with me for a short while? We will be stopping near a Chantry where you can stay."

"No, I can't leave my sister."

"Boy, there is nothing left, your father, your sister, this whole village, it's gone. Now come, we need to leave, you are injured and Wynne is busy."

I tried to leave, I turned and struck the man across his face, my burned hand singing in agony. I hear a rumble of laughter, I look up to the man I just punched as he rubbed his jaw.

"You pack a nice hook boy, you have fire in your eyes and in your heart. What say you to making sure this never happens to another village under your watch?"

I looked over my shoulder to the blood, the broken bodies, the dead corpses were strewn across the village square like decorations. This was hell, true and utter hell, I do not know if his offer is true, but I accept anyway.

"Yes."

"Good, we will have a headstart to the Chantry, there it begins."

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Age 9:17

"Pick up the pace boy!"

I looked forward, shivering in my uniform. It had been nearly a year since I left with Ser Greagoir. Since then my shaggy hair had been trimmed back, the once golden hair trimmed cleanly with the right side temple shaved back. My burnt left hand-bound by cloth, both hands covered in leather gloves. The simple iron scale iron armor only insulated by my wool shirt and my breeches. My sword, more of a dagger, tied to my left hip, my shield attached to my left glove and arm. I had worked off the suit by being Ser Greagoir's squire for some time now, but he has started to teach me how to fight. It was really interesting, he fights much faster than you would think someone in plate armor could.

"Boy, stop pussyfooting and pick up the pace, we must be over the Frostback's come morning or we will be trapped in snow over your head!"

"Coming Ser Greagoir!"

Ser Greagoir had just received news, he is needed back at Kinloch Hold due to an emergency. Kinloch Hold is one of the Circle of Magi that exist in Ferelden. I looked forward to being there, Ser Greagoir said that there were going to be a few boys my age that were to become Templars as well. I hope that is the case, I could use some friends.

"Boy, come and look at this?"

I hurry up the slope, nearly slipping in the snow-covered mountainside. Standing atop a cliff face overlooking a vast region before us, I looked over the distance and saw green.

"We are nearly there boy, less than two weeks travel and we will be home. Then, your true training begins. I am going to initiate you early, I expect great things from you boy."

I took a deep breath inwards filled with hope and pride, then I immediately regretted my decision as I began coughing due to the dry, cold air. Ser Greagoir's boisterous laughter and his hand-clapping against my back gave me all the support I needed.

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Age 9:29

My blade sang through the air meeting steel on steel in front of the trainee's, and my own face. We push against one another trying to buy ground, his free hand-throwing a fist. Letting my blades grip grow weak, my hilt turns in my hand, I grab it reversed and step forward dragging the edge of my blade across his cheek, light enough to cut, but not deep enough to scar.

"Ow, did you have to do that? You're so mean Knight-Lieutenant Tobias."

"Come on Alistair, you are the only one who can match me blow for blow, stop playing around and fight me evenly some time, you may just win."

"But that's no fun, I mean, could you imagine their faces if I won? They'd be pushing me harder to become a Templar."

"Would that be so bad? I mean, you would have better quarters, a firmer bed."

"Those nice uniforms?"

"Why of course dear ser."

"Then sign me up, where do I sign my soul away to Lyriu- I mean the Chantry."

Our chuckles are easily hid as a Sister of the cloth strode past us. We sheathed our weapons and stretched to relieve some of our aches and pains.

"So you heard about the Grey Warden coming?"

"Alistair, he's not coming, he's already here."

"What?"

"Yes, he's here."

"Where? I would so like to meet him."

"He's behind you."

"What!"

I laughed loudly as Alistair turned and shrieked like a little girl. Behind him stood a middle-aged man, dark olive skin, black beard and hair tied in a ponytail to the back of his head. The two swords sheathed upon his back showed him to be knowledgeable in the least.

"Warden Duncan, it is a pleasure to meet you again."

"The pleasure is mine Knight-Lieutenant, tell me, how does young Alistair compare?"

"Alistair is one of the finest recruits the Templars have had in a decade. To be his age and so skilled, it's nearly unheard of. He could very well become a Knight-Divine within thirty years."

"That is good to hear, and his talents?"

"Well, he hasn't had his first dose of Lyrium and his talents are easy some of the best since Ser Greagoir himself."

"That is high praise from someone such as yourself."

"Ahem, um, Tobias, what does he mean by that?"

"I was Ser Greagoir's Apprentice and his Steward for years."

"Oh, I see."

"Now now Alistair, don't tell me you're ashamed of one of your closest friends giving you strong praise!"

The clicking of heels brought a strong ire from in my heart, those heels meant only one thing.

"Grand Cleric Sable, so glad of you to join us."

"Oh save me your words you bastard Tobias, you are only worth as much as your sword, so stand back and be QUIET!"

I bit my tongue, being a Templar I had to heed to her commands, though hardly wanting to. Sable was an angry person, sharp with her tongue and harsh with her treatments. Templars were worth less than dirt to her and she made sure they knew it. I gave her a mock salute, and stood back my hands crossed over my chest. I looked to the Warden. He was easily identified as Rivainy, but something about his eyes marked him Ferelden. His robes bore the mark of the Griffon, the mark of the Grey Wardens, an order that I had been told of growing up in Ferelden. The thick brown beard adorned his face, skin like caramel, and eyes that matched, he couldn't have been more than forty Winters of age. The air that surrounded him was serene, but not in a normal way. Serenity is usually found in being confident, peaceful, but this man's Serenity was easy to identify. He was serene, because he knew, if he had to he could kill us all and wouldn't bat an eye. This man had the air of a noble, a knight, and a murderer, I would never trust this man.

"Cleric Sable, if I may?"

"Go ahead Grey Warden, my patience runs thin."

The Warden strode forward, the air of his confidence was intoxicating, but now that I was closer I could feel something else about his aura, it wasn't just confidence, it was protectiveness. Something was causing Duncan to be protective, and to show confidence in that fact. Having taken stock in the room before, and knowing the reputation of the Wardens there was one conclusion, Alistair or I were to be conscripted into the Wardens.

"My name is Duncan, and I am the Warden-Commander of Ferelden. It took much convincing, but I have managed to convince the esteemed Grand Cleric to release the two of you into my care. Through Right of Conscription due to the suspicions of a coming Blight, Tobias, Alistair, the two of you are to come with me to become Wardens. Retrieve your belongings and meet me in the chamber hall by Noon, we leave for Denerim by evening come."

"Um, Ser Duncan."

"Just Duncan, Alistair, what is it?"

"We can just leave with you? Just like that?"

"Yes, just like that."

"Finally, if I had to stay one more moment in the damned place I would have pulled out all my hair and tried to play off being Ser Coulbrite till I was allowed to leave."

"Very good, you both are dismissed."

I watched Alistair leave, Duncan stayed and had a few words with Cleric Sable. I waited for a few moments till Cleric Sable left Duncan and I alone in the room.

"You have concerns, do you not Tobias?"

"Indeed I do, as you are well aware, I am a Templar, I have taken vows, I partake in Lyrium. Does the Grey Wardens have a reliable source of Lyrium?"

"You need not worry over Lyrium, it will be taken care of to the best of our abilities. You were released from your vows the moment you were conscripted, and you will be allowed to continue your training under the guidance of one of our Wardens who was formerly a Templar."

"I see, well, I believe I should gather my things, should I not?"

"I believe you should, and Tobias, for what it is worth, I wish I had the ability to give you a choice, but I was not allowed. Cleric Sable forced my hand, and for having to invoke the right, I apologize, but warriors of your and Alistair's calibre are needed now more than ever."

"I understand, Commander Duncan."

"Good, collect your affects, we leave after lunch."

I watched Duncan turn to leave, hands behind his back retreating from the room and I realized something. This man was not like the Templars I am accustomed to, this man was dangerous, protective, caring, and straight to the point. He had a job and got it done, damn the consequences. He reminded me of Ser Greagoir from the air he held, to the way he carried his form, this was a man who you wanted to follow, and to have your back, but never cross him, or your life would be forfeit.

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Age 9:30

My eyes opened slowly, as though held together by Maker knows what. I heard the wheezing of labored breathing to my right. I turned my head to see Alistair lying there, his face etched into utter horror, and strangely enough, I could feel him, not like a simple sense of feeling, but truly FEEL him. I felt a dozen burning needles in my skull, pulling me their way, like a headache after working for too long in the sun. It had been this way since our Joining, and from what I have learned would be this way for years to come, till our death.

"Good, you are awake Tobias."

"Duncan, what, what's going on? I thought you would be gone for another week or so."

"I had to make an emergency return. I only had the chance to go to Highever and the Brescillian forest before things took a turn. We have two new recruits but we need to collect a vial of Darkspawn blood for one of them."

"What do you mean, is it not their duty to collect their own vial?"

"She would if she was able to, she was tainted and has been for a number of days. IF it were not for her constitution and her will she would have succumbed to the taint over a day ago on the road. She needs the joining done as soon as possible if she is to have a chance. The other one will go about the Joining with the other recruits, but for the young Dalish, it needs to happen now. Wake Alistair, you both need to go swiftly, and I do mean swiftly, she has naught a night left in her body."

I stood and adjusted my shirt, the wool scratching against my skin but I didn't care. Duncan had left, leaving me and Alistair alone in our tent, his incessant snoring growing louder. So I reached over and shoved Alistair from his cot to the ground. He fell off the side in a flurry of limbs and a Maker awful snorting noise, it reminded me of a nug.

"What in the-!"

"Silence Alistair, we need to move, now. One of the recruits is tainted and will not survive the night, we need to venture out and collect a vial of blood for her."

"What happened?"

"I do not know, Duncan came in and woke me up to give me that report."

"Well, we must not dawdle then."

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Later that night: 9:30 -1 FoO

I let a sigh flow out of my chest, the single vial of blood being passed from Alistair's hand to Duncans. The Commander moving with several Warden-Healers and on a stretcher a small, seemingly frail Dalish woman. I removed my helmet, the smell of Darkspawn blood still fresh on my Chainmail, my helmet dyed a dark grey from the black blood. I ran a weary hand through my blonde hair, it had grown, I really should get it cut.

"What's on your mind?" I turned my head to the side, the scent of smoke and ash rolling beneath my nose. I smiled and reached my left hand to my right shoulder giving the female's hand a squeeze.

"Tis nothing to worry over Lady Aeducan, just wondering if I should rend my hair again."

"You should, it looks better kept and cut. I would never have allowed my men to look as unseemly as you do. That mangy thing you call a beard is obnoxious and starting to smell."

"Ever the word-mason Magna, ever the word-mason." I turned around to her, the dwarf gave a scoff and petted the top of my head.

"Not my fault you Fereldens look like your dogs, get mange like them too."

"Says the one who practically eats stones."

"Those are candy!"

"You call them rock candy, correct me if I am wrong, but in the name, does it not say, dare I say it. Rock?"

"Grrr, you are insufferable!"

I let out a hoarse laugh as I watched her leave. She was one of my only few friends in the Wardens. I was unlike Alistair, an unwilling Conscript, I enjoyed being a Templar. Though the only true fear I had was the withdrawls, which thanks to the blight, had nary a chance to happen. You see the blight is a selfish, unsharing bitch, it ensnared the Lyrium in my blood and devoured it, when I went into withdrawal, the shock in my body was forced by the taint to endure it all in one night. My night of hell, I still have nightmares of what I felt, of what I heard. The Chantry uses Lyrium to, in a basic sense, enslave the Templars to their duty. By giving the Templars an addictive substance they force the Templar to stay in their service to get what they need, or be arrested for illegally seeking out a supplier. It was maddening that the very establishment he had come to work for was in turn the devil that took his soul by the balls.

Pushing that train of thought aside I placed my shield against the log in front of me and withdrew my knife. In my shield I saw my reflection, and in it, I saw that once again Magna was right. I looked hideous, mangy, decrepit, and sleep deprived. I placed the knife against my skin and drew the blade upwards along my skin, the scratching noise of the knife an old friend to my ears. The hair on my face began to disappear and as I looked into the mirror I scowled. I remembered everything I was told by Duncan, and I cursed the blood in my veins. You see, Alistair and I had much in common, so much in fact it was seemingly a joke by the Maker.

I winced, the blade pressed to hard to my skin, a small red line oozing blood appeared on my neck. The cursed Theirin blood ran through his veins and it sickened him, Alistair found it hilarious but he did not. All the two knew was that they shared a Father and Mother, they were true brothers, not like their older sibling Cailan. Alistair had clung to Tobias since then, the two were the only ones the other could truly count on, and I knew it. I used the cover of my bed to wipe the blood before returning to shaving my face.

I sighed looking into the mirror and pulled the right side of my hair out and up, using the knife I drug the blade cutting through all of the hair effectively shaving the side of my head, repeating that to the other side and the back leaving the top of my head with hair. I drug my fingers through it and pulled it back, the hair bunching in the front and laying flat on the back.

"T'will be good enough."

I stood, wiping my neck and head with the blanket to rid myself of the access shavings. Wandering around the camp began to quickly be one of my favorite activities, hearing the bustling of men in armor, the Sisters caring for the wounded, the mages chanting, the Mabari howling and barking, it was calming. Looking ahead I saw Alistair walking off with three young men, one who seemed a bit down trodden. I made my way over, past the blacksmith, the mage camp and the Mabari den.

"Ah, Tobias, good to see you here."

"Was that them?"

"Indeed, that was the three, Jory, Daveth, and Aeden. I tasked Alistair to take them into the Wilds to collect their blood and the treaties. I need you to watch over the young Dalish, she has yet to wake but still lives, as her senior warden she will be your responsibility. Just be careful, she reluctantly agreed to join, it took a large use of silver tongue and the promise of a cure for her ailment."

"You lied to her?"

"Omission of the truth, we need men and women of her capability. She uses that bow in ways even I have never even seen."

"Duncan, remember what you told me when I was recruited, why ALL the Wardens now know Alistair's heritage."

"I remember my words well to Alistair and to you, but in a Blight? We have no time for frivolous things like morals and codes, all that matters is that we end the Archdemon. Is that clear?"

"Crystal Warden-Commander."

"Good, now, go check in on your charge. She should be waking soon and will need her keeper."

This day just keeps getting better and better.

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Age 9:30 0 FoO

I was stirred by a groan in the tent, in shock I drew my sword, and immediately paused. Sitting on the edge of the bed was the Mahariel girl, excuse me, new Warden. Her cherry red short cut hair, bangs framing one side of her face. She turned and looked to me, the dull brown of her eyes reflecting with the honey gold flecks. Her tanned skin speckled with freckles across her nose which was short and tiny, almost obscenely. HEr lips plump, fair and a dull pink, her neck lean and strong. I was brought from my stares by her waving hand, or what I thought was waving. In front of me, perched on the side of the cot was the young elf making hand gestures to me.

"I am afraid I don't know what you're doing."

A frustrated groan came from her lips as she began to use one hand to make different gestures. I blinked in confusion and shook my head.

"Still unaware."

She groaned and held her hand out between us, making a gesture to come to her, I reached my hand out. She gripped my wrist with her left hand and with the right she removed my glove. With slow and meaningful motions she spelled out her words on my palm.

"So, your name is Shemlen? I'm afraid I do not know a few of the words you spelled out. You're mute?"

Once again the elf groaned in annoyance and shook her head, pointing at my chest she spelled out Shemlen again.

"Oh, no, my name is Tobias, good guess though."

I chuckled at the next groan as she furiously traced letters on my palm

"Whoa, Whoa, hey, that's uncalled for. I'm sorry for teasing you, perhaps we could start again? My name is Tobias, I am a Warden-Recruit like yourself. Oh, your name is Assan, a pleasure, and no I don't know where Duncan went he was seeing to the other new recruits. Yes, your Joining has been completed, and as per custom I am to mentor you for the next few weeks, no I am not your jailor, I am like a teacher. No, not to fight, to teach you Warden tradition and our history in the coming weeks. No, i'm not aware of what happened to your clan, Tamlen? No, I don't know whom that is."

I noticed the strain on her face, the sweat trailing down her face, her hand around my wrist clammy and shaking. I steadied her as she nearly fell and I helped her lay back down.

"Don't worry, I'll go and get you some food and water, unfortunately right now all we have are bread, salted jerky, and water. For what it's worth, I'm sorry about your friend, I know what it's like to lose those closest to you. If you need anything, just let me know, Assan."

Stepping out into the light drizzle, I was hit by the god awful smell of the Mabari shit from the pen right down the way from our tent. The noises of the hustling healers and clerics to cover their wares and items was amusing, had they not heeded the Avaar's that joined in for the battle? The light drizzling rain helped with the smell, knocking away the Mabari shit and bringing through the smell that I loved so much, that made this feel like home. The thick pines to our back, the earthen mud, the smell of the food cooking at the mess area, this was home. I heard a crash and looked to my right, I couldn't help but chuckle loudly, some children that accompanied the Avaar and the Ash Warriors were causing trouble at the Lay Sisters expense again. Trying to steal her notes and her books to make foldings with, it was a game they started since their arrival.

"Oi, Tobias!"

Looking to my left, sitting at a stump with four of our fellow wardens was my second best friend, Magna Aeducan. The short brown haired, dark skinned, and cocky Dwarf looked ever the regality of a noble, but the fierceness of a winters squall.

"What my Lady Aeducan?"

"That little girl woke up yet?"

"Yeah, im getting her some food right now, still weak as anything."

"If you need any help, you know you can just ask."

"Yeah yeah Magna, I get it."

I jumped into line behind the two dozen or more men and women for dinner. I could smell it even from here, freshly dried meat, bread, and water, a hell of a diet, but it was efficient. After a good half candle wait I made my way back, using my small handkerchief to cover Assan's portion, I never mind wet bread, it reminds me of Alistair and I's time at the Monastery. I pushed back the flap of the tent and smiled, she was asleep, she looked peaceful but I needed to wake her.

"Assan, Assan. I have food."

At the mention of food the Dalish's eyes flew open and she stole both small wooden trays, devouring the food faster than you could say "what." She looked to me for the reason I was laughing, she made her strange hand signs.

"Sorry, sorry, I forgot the hunger of new Wardens, I should have brought you a few more plates."

The elf snorted indignantly and went back to gorging herself on the food. I took the empty cups and walked outside, letting the rain fill them. Returning to the tent I handed one to her and sipped on the water in mine. She grasped my hand and I obliged her, using her finger to trace more words.

"Yes, you are at Ostagar, yes with the army. No, I didn't see Duncan. May I pose a, well how should I put it, an opportunity? No, nothing illicit, since I am to teach you how to be a warden for the next few weeks, how about you teach me how to read those hand motions of yours. So that we can communicate better, what do you say? Oh, well, I guess you can't say anything, what I meant was, well, um."

Her hand grabbed the middle of my forearm and I saw it in her eye.

"Well, this will be fun."


End file.
